


The Role of a Minister (ch 4/4)

by orphan_account



Category: Yes Minister, Yes Prime Minister
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ch 1 http://archiveofourown.org/works/11547021ch 2 http://archiveofourown.org/works/11548356ch 3 http://archiveofourown.org/works/11547000





	The Role of a Minister (ch 4/4)

"... aren't we, Humphrey?"

He has been tuning the minister out for some time now. Jim Hacker has never been a man capable of holding his drink, and now he slurred, apparently no longer able to string a coherent sentence together without stumbling over his two feet.

Sir Humphrey raises his brows patiently. "I'm sorry, minister?" He queries, placing a steadying hand upon the other man's shoulders when he almost falls into the fireplace.

Hacker mutters a vague 'thank you', and struggles to drink with a trembling hand. He doesn't seem to notice that the glass he is tipping carelessly over his face is empty, though perhaps that is for the better. "I-I was just saying, H-Humpey..." The minister garbles, head lolling slightly. "We are - hic! - friends, aren't we?"

Humphrey does not really want to admit to that when the man's breath smelt so terrible, but he forces a slight smile and nods. "Of course we are, minister," he answers, smoothly. "Though I personally do not believe in true friendship where politics is concerned, I am sure that, in this situation, the depth of our relationship, though perfectly platonic and relates more through our professions than any exterior relations, I feel that, in the purest, emotional sense of the word... Indeed, we can consider ourselves friends."

He doubts that Hacker would have interpreted that even in a sober state, but the inebriated man has evidently picked up on the final lines, and a happy, drooping smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth, makes an appearance upon his face. "Excellent!" He cries, and deals Humphrey a hearty slap on the back which, in practice, turns instead into a light skim over the shoulder that almost smacks the newly appointed cabinet secretary in the face. The minister totters, and then, pushing his face far too close than is really necessary, hisses: "You can call me Jim."

"Ah, yes..." Uncomfortably, Humphrey attempts to slip out of the minister's grasp. "Minister, I think I would prefer it if -"

"No, no, no! You must call me Jim! We won't... Ah, we won't be seeing much of each other from now on, will we?" Hacker's voice wavers, and for a moment, the man looks suddenly emotional. "No need for the form... formal... formalalities anymore, since I'll only see you... gosh... once a week?" His blue eyes are suddenly watering, and he scrambles in his pockets for a handkerchief that isn't there. "Oh, Humphrey! This is... This is...!"

"I-I'm, well... I'm sorry, minis- Jim," mutters Humphrey awkwardly, fishing out his own handkerchief from his pocket to hand to his former master. "Here, why don't you just take mine -"

"I'll miss you, Humphrey!" exclaims Hacker, weeping, and he sets down his glass in order to take Humphrey's handkerchief in both hands and, much to the secretary's horror, proceeds to blow his nose loudly and exaggeratedly into it. "Oh, this is just... this is just so sad! I never thought... I mean, we had our ups and downs, really, but... It was so much fun working with you. Honestly."

"I'm... I'm quite moved, er, Jim." And perhaps, for the first time in a long time, he feels there is just the tiniest inkling of truth in his words. "But there is no need to despair. You may consult me whenever you like. My services will always be open to -"

"Oh, Humphrey," sighs Hacker, dabbing at his eyes. It seems as though the cabinet secretary will be unable to finish a sentence for the rest of the evening. "I-I'm so sorry, for being so... so... emotional." He coughs, and attempts to return Humphrey's soiled handkerchief, though the other man is able to subtly push it back into the minister's pockets. "It's just... just occurred to me that we've been together... Three, four years now? And it just feels too... sudden! W-We haven't done what we could, Humphrey! We haven't yet changed the world!"

"Perhaps not, minister. But if it's any consolation, you still have Bernard."

"O-Oh yes. Bernard. I suppose that is... that is quite a comfort." Here, Hacker makes a noise, a mixture of a hiccough and sob, and wipes his eyes once more. "S-Still," he says, tearfully, "I suppose this is... good bye? I know we haven't... haven't always gotten on, but I hope you'll leave without any... ill feelings, and that you'll... you'll stay in touch. You will, won't you, Humphrey? Won't you?"

The secretary hides a small smile of amusement. "But of course, minister," he promises, and thinks that it is fascinating how, in that one instance, one could almost forgive any past misgivings the two of them had shared.

Hacker scrambles for his empty glass, and, oblivious to its lack of contents - possibly due to the tears blurring his eyes - raises it.

"To a brighter future, Sir Humphrey," he announces, in a trembling voice, and their gazes lock for just the briefest second. "I'll miss you." He says, so honest and sincere.

And Humphrey mirrors his gesture. "Thank you, Jim," he answers, and thinks: But I won't be missing you. 

... Because he does not yet want their story to end.

He sits now, eyes closed, before his desk, waiting for that vital call to come. Jim Hacker fidgets opposite him, tugging at his collar with fingers digging into the armrests. Bernard watches from the sidelines. The actions are too familiar. It is the first time since the tolling of the new year, when there is just the three of them.

Then the charm is broken, and the phone rings. Bernard starts. Hacker almost falls off his chair in his enthusiasm, and pounces abruptly upon the wrong telephone, thrusting the receiver into Humphrey's face with wide-eyed, terrified expectations.

And calmly, Humphrey answers, and when he is done, he has the answer.

Hacker trembles. His hands gesture in futile and he opens and closes his mouth wordlessly like a fish out of water. "I-Is...!" He points at Humphrey, then changes his mind and points at himself. "A-Am... Am I...?" He makes a few more incoherent noises, incapable, as he is, to pronounce anything else.

And for Humphrey, there is only thing left for him to declare, and when he speaks he feels, for the first time, a soft, pleasant thrill for what he has achieved for another:

"Yes, Prime Minister!"

Their story will continue.


End file.
